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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663791">Exposed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cursed_core/pseuds/cursed_core'>cursed_core</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Marvel Archives [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:30:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,118</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cursed_core/pseuds/cursed_core</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of events regarding Maria Hill and The Ceaseless Watcher</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Marvel Archives [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Exposed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know that this isn't really an update to the main storyline but it is something I did want to get out. First to cover trigger warnings of doxxing, self harm and suicide. Now into an explanation this chapter is heavily based on events that happened to me and the trauma surrounding it. This isn't really major story because it is more personal due to me intimately understanding this particular fear however it may play a part going forward. To anyone who reads this or has read this series thank you so much especially with the sparse updates due to work and personal life.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It felt like just any day for Maria Hill. Go to work, get home, shower and then scroll through social media. That last activity is what faltered and changed the normalcy that comes with days like this. It started with a message, unknown number. </span>
  <b>Maria, you might want to protect yourself better</b>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cryptic texts were also normal for her but this had a different tone behind it. The clear mockery of the veil of secrecy built around herself except for the life she lived online. Then came the second with a link she tapped to a small forum discussing the gossip around the Avengers and there it was a thread just for her in a section for S.H.I.E.L.D. In the thread were details of her own life but spun in a different way. Instead of any of the good she did it focused in on the fact of how fucking dumb she was that she worked with HYDRA unknowingly. Salt in a still open wound. Reading and scrolling it doesn’t take long until every aspect of her existence is being torn apart like a piece of paper. Appearance. Likes. Dislikes. Opinions. Anything they could get their hands on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria quickly closes the tab, turning the phone screen off and tossing it to the end of the couch. She sits and stares at it, her panic bubbling just below the surface. Her thoughts bounce in her own head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What else are they saying about me? What will be found out? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She sits like this until the sun shifts and the small apartment becomes dark. All that seemingly exists at this point is just her and that soft blinking light alerting her of another notification. There is that urge to just open it, get it over with but the thought and fear of what it could be wants to make her puke. This feeling of nakedness is nothing a spy at any rank should experience. Not like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a process that feels like hours she scoots over and picks up the phone, unlocking it once again. The notification is from her email, no subject. Maria reads it. </span>
  <b>Hello, Maria. </b>
  <span>Her hands are shaking as she whispers to herself in an unsteady voice. “This shouldn’t be able to be seen.” There is the small consideration of wanting to tell someone but… she can’t. The judgement of those around her terrify her like no other. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How could you let this happen? How dumb could you be? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Those thoughts replace the worry of what could possibly be said about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is the new routine. Wake up, go to work, come home, shower and then obsess over the forums until Maria forces herself to go to bed. Repeat every single day. Reading and rereading these forum pages slowly she starts to believe everything that is said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am ugly, sure I shouldn’t live, I don’t deserve anything, I am a fucking idiot. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not even the space in her own head is sacred. What does it matter though, nothing is especially when they find the photos from when she was younger with obvious self harm on display. Those photos are passed around like candy or some rare prize. Every now and again those same photos get sent to her anonymously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of this goes on for half a month. She can’t sleep, feeling watched during every single second of the day so she just stares at the ceiling. Running through her choices. Crying is now off of the table, Maria has cried so much that it now just does nothing. No emotional release. Now it is down to two. Continue living feeling dead inside which is no life at all or… die by the way of the thing that they mocked her for through the opening of her skin and blood flowing. After all they are right and it is what is deserved. The decision was already made in an acceptance of fate. Maria sits up in bed and leans over to dig through her bedside table for the emergency knife she keeps there. Pressing the blade to a finger blood springs up very quickly. There are no tears, no emotion at all. Just a dead eyed stare at her finger. She shifts her clothing, exposing the near unblemished skin on her hip. The blade pushes in immediately triggering adrenaline, shaking she pushes it in further. Maria pulls the knife away leaving a smaller gash, just a test. The blur that has become her life finally comes into very sharp focus. She continues with the process again and again, her blood sliding in a small stream down her side onto the sheets, free hand to steady the skin slick with her own blood. The process continues up her side to her ribs, there cutting almost to bone. There is now a heaviness but that is okay. It is calming, no feeling of panic until there is a slight feeling of being watched but she can’t stop. She needs something that she does to not be a failure. Maria brings the knife down back to the first test, sawing back and forth into it bringing up new blood to the surface. The being watched just intensifies as she continues to hit bone with a beautifully sharp pain. A soft reminder of being alive. The knife slides under and further in towards the organs, no thought behind it. Blood gushing from the wound she eventually passes out, leaving behind the feeling of swimming in sand accepting whatever fate may happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before this Maria never understood the rumours of weird things happening in the Avengers. The secrets they kept. Seeing an eye in the sky with tears pouring out onto what was a place with sun bleached sand, the raining tears soaking into her gaping wounds burning them with salt. She looks up, the eye looks back. Her skin is crawling with being watched, not by them. Not by anyone but this thing. Walking through the burnt out ruins she slowly starts to feel at home.<br/></span>
  <span>Maria breaks the almost deafening silence of the wasteland with a soft question. “What are you?”<br/></span>
  <span>What feels like laughter echoed hollowly. “I am your job. Watching.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Why am I here?”<br/></span>
  <span>“You are mine now.” The voice sounds near mocking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maria comes back to the waking world to slowly, still in bed, pain dully thudding in her side. Her blood is a deep brown with oxidation and flaking off of where it is on her skin. New scars raised from her own attempt. With these new scars she realizes that she has found a new life digging for every single person’s personal secrets and details.</span>
</p>
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